Shuttlepod One
by TwinOfDoom
Summary: Trip and Malcolm are forced to deal with something they hadn't expected after they almost die on an away mission together. Set in the episode of the same name, but extending from there.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: None of the characters, technology or settings belong to me in any way. I'm not making any money here. All rights remain with their rightful owners.

**Warning**: This story contains adult topics and conduct, and should only be read buy adults.

**A/N**: From the first time I watched the episode Shuttlepod One, I felt that someone had to address the sexual tension between Trip and Malcolm, so I did. The characters were quite easy to write about, though, so I continued the story, letting it stretch out over more episodes. It will probably be exclusively from Malcolm's point of view.

Trip had obviously intended for the alcohol to have a calming effect on Malcolm, but there was only so much calm that could be attained when trapped in a shuttlepod with an annoyingly positive Chief Engineer and the air running out. They had decided to lower the cabin temperature to maximise the time they would have to live, but Malcolm still felt horrible, not being able to do anything to get them out of this situation. Pacing the cramped space wasn't helping much, either, but it was better than sitting still and glowering at each other.

For a while, the commander simply stared into space, trying to ignore his agitated shipmate, but finally, he seemed unable to take it any longer. In a split second, Trip shot up, gripping Malcolm and effectively bringing him to a halt.

„You do know that the oxygen supply will be depleted much sooner if we continue to exert ourselves?"

It was a moot point and they both knew it. Enterprise was less than likely to show up in time to save them from suffocation. A few minutes less would hardly make a difference.

Malcolm suddenly became aware that Trip's hands still gripped the sides of his head, pulling slightly at his raven hair in the process. Malcolm had always envied the other man's apparent strength, his muscular arms and torso. Now that he felt those same parts of his colleague's anatomy so close to his body, he couldn't help the pang of arousal that rushed through him.

Their lips met before either of them had time to second-guess the action. Having never kissed a man before, Malcolm was surprised by Trip's gentleness, the smoothness of his whiskey-flavoured lips. Releasing a pent-up breath, Malcolm closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, letting his hands rest on the commander's shoulders for the moment. Something in him was still compelling him to respect the chain of command. Military family, indeed. Trip seemed quite happy to lead, sliding one hand back to linger between Malcolm's shoulder blades while his tongue sought entrance. There was desperation in that kiss, bittersweet and palpable, but somehow that made it taste that much more special. At the moment, Trip was trying to manoeuvre them onto one of the narrow bunks, but inebriation and the cold still prevailing in the pod made it harder than expected and he only succeeded in pulling Malcolm down onto the floor with him. Finally, the commander broke the kiss with an awkward laugh, sitting back on his heels.

"Guess whoever designed these things didn't expect to have two senior officers making out in here."

Malcolm scoffed slightly. "I wouldn't think so. If Starfleet got wind of this, you'd probably get a reprimand for abuse of command."

Trip laughed. "Can't you just imagine Admiral Forrest's face if he had to bring Soval up to speed on our away mission?"

They both burst out laughing.

"Soval's Vulcan mind would probably implode," sniggered Malcolm, welcoming the momentary change of topic. As pleasant as that kiss had been, it was undoubtedly the result of their dire circumstances. Clearing his throat gruffly, he got up off the floor of the shuttle and sat down on one of the bunks. To his considerable surprise, Trip did the same, his expression one of slight confusion, but also determination as he sat down next to Malcolm.

"I hope I'm not out of line here, Malcolm, but I kinda liked that."

Malcolm felt his mouth go dry. "Not at all, Sir."

Trip cleared his throat. "I understand that things could get awkward if we do get rescued, but honestly, I'd rather ... keep doing ... this, than just sit around waiting for death. So, what do you say, Lieutenant?" There was a challenging twinkle in his eye that Malcolm had sometimes seen during Trip's frequent arguments with T'Pol. Somehow, in this surreal situation, it made his pulse race and his face flush. Moistening his lips unconsciously, Malcolm mustered a cheeky grin.

"I don't know, Sir. We might still die ..." With that, Malcolm closed what little distance there had been between them and reclaimed his commander's lips in a kiss more passionate than anything he'd imagined himself capable of. He was weirdly pleased with himself when he felt Trip's surprise.

The engineer soon recovered, however, and took control, pulling the shorter man on top of him. It was Malcolm's turn to be astonished at the hardness he felt thrusting up through his shipmate's uniform, and even more so at his own erection that strained against his overall.

"Are we about to ...?" Malcolm gasped, feeling the commander bite his neck.

"Dunno. All I know is I'm glad you shaved after all."

They both laughed at that, recalling their earlier fight about how their bodies would look when Enterprise found them. Those cares seemed far away now, as Malcolm undid the zipper at the front of Trip's uniform and slid his hands inside, relishing the strange and unfamiliar feeling of hard muscle under his touch. Trip closed his eyes and ran his hands along Malcolm's thighs, gripping his hips appreciatively. With a questioning gaze to make sure Trip hadn't changed his mind, Malcolm unbuttoned the black uniform shirt and pushed it down over the blond man's shoulders along with the overall, admiring the smooth skin that move revealed.

Again, he was gripped by something like envy at those muscles, and some impulse made him run his tongue along the cleft between Trip's pecs. The commander's eyes flew open in surprise, probably at his reserved colleague's boldness, but instead of stopping Malcolm, he brought his hand up to tangle in the tactical officer's hair.

Some part of him wondered how far they would go ... how far they could go and still be able to look each other in the eye in the unlikely case that Enterprise had seen the explosion Trip had created as a beacon. Those thoughts were interrupted, however, by the strangest desire to get them both naked. Would the commander still go along with that? Or would Malcolm have crossed some random line?

Trip must have sensed his dilemma and made the decision for him. With an ease that astonished Malcolm, he quickly stripped off as much of his shipmate's clothing as their position allowed and slid one of his hands determinedly down Malcolm's chest and stomach to finally make contact with his heated member. A ragged moan fought its way out of Malcolm's throat at the touch. They had talked a great deal about their past conquests, most of that in the past few days in this pod, but seeing the other in action, as it were, was unbelievably more exciting than either of them could have imagined.

Somehow, suddenly, this felt like more than two people desperately trying to alleviate the stress of imminent death. The way his cock twitched at his CO's touch, the way the stronger man sighed when Malcolm buried his face in his neck to stifle his moan ... this was a whole new level of intimacy. In a rush of confidence, Malcolm hurriedly stripped out of his uniform altogether, facing Trip in just his briefs. The appraising look that crossed the commander's face, before he too stepped out of his uniform, made Malcolm tingle pleasantly. He had always enjoyed praise and the way Trip had regarded him just then felt so damn good.

For a moment they just stood there in their underwear, and Malcolm had a sudden vision of one of Enterprise's other shuttles docking with them, and Captain Archer and T'Pol poking their heads in to see them like that – both sporting raging hard-ons as they stared at each other hungrily. The image almost cracked him up, but he quickly controlled himself, torn between jumping the commander's bones and getting dressed and pretending none of that had even happened.

Just like before, it was Trip who took the initiative, pulling Malcolm back toward the bunk, sinking down on it and reconnecting their lips with a deep groan that succeeded in wiping away all of Malcolm's doubt.

Throwing caution to the winds, he settled more comfortably against Trip, his hands roaming over the soft expanses of his chest and stomach; then, with a final mental push, he slipped one of his hands down under the waistband of Trip's briefs, touching him gingerly. With something that sounded a lot like a growl of frustration, Trip reached down and made sure that Malcolm's grip was firm enough.

Trip might be younger than him, but he was obviously less inhibited, perhaps even more experienced? The thought of Trip being with another man, maybe even the captain, suddenly made him impossibly hard, and he had to steer his thoughts away from that tantalising imagine to avoid bringing this exploration to an early end.

To distract himself, he focused on the feeling of Trip's lips against his own, his tongue gliding over his, and the silky smoothness of the American's shaft in his hand as Trip bucked his hips in an effort to get Malcolm to move his hand.

"Come on, Malcolm. Don't make me give you an order," he gasped against Malcolm's mouth, although it came out sounding more like a plea than a request.

Malcolm felt himself grin wolfishly, as he started moving his hand in an excruciatingly slow motion.

"You'd honestly pull rank on me, just to get off? That sounds awfully desperate, don't you think, _Sir_?"

Trip broke into a grin himself, and caught at Malcolm's lower lip with his teeth.

"Careful, Lieutenant! Any more cheek like that and I'll have to put it in your permanent record."

"Well, we wouldn't want that ...," Malcolm allowed, and finally picked up his speed a little, making Trip give such an exquisite moan that Malcolm couldn't help the jerk of his hips that pressed his erection into Trip's.

The commander's kisses grew deeper and fiercer as Malcolm found Trip's rhythm, his moans mingling with Malcolm's own. A small part of his mind noticed with surprise that Trip had hardly touched him and nonetheless he was already dangerously close to the edge, but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to not give himself over to the sensations.

Raking his fingernails over Trip's back, he increased his speed one last time, as he came with a grunt which he tried to stifle by biting down on the commander's neck. The mix of pleasure and pain pushed Trip over as well, and Malcolm felt him spasm next to him, as hot sticky wetness spread over his fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

The moment that followed was too delicate for words. At least for Malcolm, it was a confusing mess of sated aftermath and desperately awkward silence. Malcolm half hoped that the pod would decompress right that second, sparing him the conversation that was bound to follow. Another part of him felt oddly safe lying so intimately next to a man with whom he wouldn't even have discussed his favourite food just a short while ago.

After another few seconds, Malcolm cleared his throat in a way that voiced his discomfort more clearly than words, and carefully retrieved his hand from inside his shipmate's briefs.

He tried not to think about the fact that Trip was his superior officer, or about the frequent breakfasts and dinners that Trip and the captain shared. Such a topic might come up eventually. With these Americans, there was no way of knowing what they were comfortable discussing with one another. As his thoughts whirled about on such tracks, he cast around the room for something to wipe his hand with, when he suddenly became aware of Trip's eyes on him. There was a curious expression on his face, part worried, part amused. When their gazes met, the commander broke into a sheepish grin.

"Seriously, Malcolm! Looking at you, I could think you'd just helped me commit a murder. What's the matter?"

Pulling his jumpsuit back on, Trip kept his eyes on Malcolm, who felt his earlier anxiety creeping back on him.

"Gee, if you don't sit down, you'll wear a hole in the deck plating and we'll die even sooner." Trip's voice held most of his usual cheerfulness, but there was also an underlying tone of anger in it.

Malcolm heaved a loud sigh, his hand reaching to massage his temples before he remembered its current state and let it sink with a sudden resigned laugh. "You have no idea how awkward I'm feeling right now! I was just hoping for a hull breach to put me out of my misery. I mean ...," he gestured half-heartedly between the two of them, "... isn't this going to be mortifying? Just imagine being in Decon together ..."

Face uncharacteristically serious, Trip got up and stopped Malcolm from pacing, locking eyes. "Stop that! Firstly, are you ever gonna do something about that hand?"

With a wry look, Malcolm wiped his hand on his briefs, while Trip watched him intently. "Is this really such a big deal for you?" he went on, his eyes never leaving Malcolm's face, searching for the truth in the Englishman's expression.

The familiar scoff was back. "I don't know about you, but I don't make a habit of snogging my commanding officers while waiting for a ship that might or might not come to save us. I find it deeply disturbing how easy it was for you to get me to -"

That made colour rise in Trip's cheeks. "Whoa, hold your horses! _I_ _got you_ to kiss me? It takes two to tango ... or in that case, make out." He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to calm his temper, then took a deep breath. "Never mind. I'm not even gonna go there. Way I see it, we're in a pretty difficult situation and we both needed some stress relief. Now, I can only speak for myself, but I liked it. Doesn't mean we have to do it again, doesn't mean we have to feel bad about it."

Trip's blunt assessment of what had happened helped calm Malcolm a little. He heaved a sigh of relief and sat down heavily on the bunk opposite of where Trip stood. "You're right, I guess. Every cadet has heard tales of officers getting trapped somewhere, usually with a pretty violent twist. This isn't any different. It's not as if we're attracted to each other, right? We can just forget this ever happened and move on."

As decisive as his voice sounded, Malcolm couldn't stop a blush from creeping into his cheeks as his eyes fell on the commander's chest that was still exposed. Mortified, he noticed that Trip was well aware of his reaction and that one of his trademark smirks was already spreading on his face, when suddenly the comm crackled.

They rushed for the consoles, hope surging through Malcolm that this away mission hadn't been his last after all.

It had taken Enterprise an excruciatingly long time to reach them after they had re-established contact, and they must have both lost consciousness, for when Malcolm opened his eyes, Captain Archer and T'Pol were looking down at him. He recognised the sounds and smells of sickbay immediately, and the events of the past few days came pushing back into his mind, making his cheeks go warm. He found that he couldn't remember anything after being raised by the ship. Had he and Trip finished their talk?

Heart beating quickly, he tried to sit up to look around for the commander, but was pushed back down firmly.

"You cut it pretty close out there," the captain chided, concern betraying his usual unruffled manner. "We almost didn't get to you in time."

Malcolm reluctantly settled back against the pillow. His head felt ready to split down the middle. "How's Trip – er, Commander Tucker? I can't really remember what happened after we got the comm back."

Archer smiled. "Trip is just fine. As a matter of fact, he's already been discharged. I believe he was eager to get a change of uniform."

Malcolm fought down another blush at the thought of just what had happened to get those uniforms so dirty and how Phlox must have wondered at the stains.

"Commander Tucker informs us that you will be compiling a full report, while he will make the necessary repairs to the shuttlepod." While T'Pol talked, Malcolm found himself studying her features and Captain Archer's, looking for signs that what had transpired in that pod had already gotten through to them somehow. Satisfied for now that they remained oblivious, he nodded his approval and the two of them left sickbay, giving Malcolm over to the care of Doctor Phlox.

"Why so glum, Lieutenant?" he asked, injecting Malcolm with an analgesic. "You don't even have to stay here for observation, as far as I'm concerned. I suggest you go catch up with Mr Tucker, get those missing memories back. Sometimes, certain engrams can get lost in the heat of the moment, as they say."

Chuckling happily, Phlox went to one of his shelves to put away the hypospray, while Malcolm got dressed hurriedly and was about to leave, when Phlox called after him. "Wait, Lieutenant! If you happen to see Mr Tucker later on, why don't you give him this, hm?" He held out a small tube containing some salve or ointment.

Malcolm accepted it with a puzzled look, then nodded. "Sure, what should I tell him that it's for?"

Phlox smiled one of his too-wide smiles and affected an air of nonchalance. "Oh, this should take care of those bothersome scratches and the bruises on his neck. He didn't mention any discomfort and I didn't say anything in front of the captain, but I know a love bite when I see one. They can be pretty painful. Have a nice day, Lieutenant!"

Stammering incoherently, Malcolm left sickbay rather stiffly. He was going to have to find out how that talk had played out.

Ignoring all attempts from passing shipmates to engage him in conversation, Malcolm had almost reached the hangar deck, where he believed Trip to be making repairs to the pod, when he recalled Archer's remark about Trip's desire for fresh clothes.

He changed direction and headed instead for the crew quarters. He had been to Trip's cabin before, to deliver a status report or suggest the duty roster for his security personnel, but this would be his first social call there, and despite their recent intimacy (or maybe because of it), he felt decidedly uneasy about it. Before he could talk himself out of going through with it, however, Malcolm had reached Trip's door and pressed the bell button.

There was a short pause, before he heard the commander's voice over the intercom: "Come in!"

The door slid open and Malcolm stepped into a cabin that was almost identical to his own. The same narrow bunk, the same desk with the computer interface. He looked around, but couldn't find the occupant. Wanting to make his presence known, Malcolm knocked on the desktop. "Commander?" Somehow he didn't feel justified in using Trip's nickname in the current situation.

Hardly more than a moment passed before the blond man's head appeared in the doorway leading to the bathroom. Steam wafted out all around him, blurring the contours of his body. "Be right with you, Malcolm. Just give me a second to dry off."

Malcolm swallowed against his suddenly desert-dry mouth and gave a quick nod. Trip's head disappeared again, only to return an instant later with the rest of his body, wearing nothing but a bath towel wrapped around his slim waist. His body still glistened wetly, droplets of water clinging to his face and shoulders. He smiled readily when he greeted the lieutenant, thankfully neglecting to comment on the way the Englishman's face had flushed crimson with embarrassment.

"What's up?" he asked instead, picking up a clean undershirt and pulling it over his head.

Malcolm watched the dishevelled head rise from the neck of that shirt and was suddenly vividly reminded of the other day in the shuttle, when he himself had reasoned that it would all be alright, since neither of them was attracted to the other. At the moment that was decidedly untrue.


	3. Chapter 3

"Malcolm," Trip was saying, head cocked in a mix of concern and impatience. "Did you want to talk about anything in particular?"

Malcolm wasn't really sure why, but anger was bubbling up rapidly from beneath the surface. He did his best to keep it out of his voice, but there was still an underlying aggressiveness to his words.

"Respectfully, Sir, I think you know exactly what I want to talk about."

He noticed a slight shift in the commander's attitude. The man had been rubbing at his hair with a second towel, but at Malcolm's words, he lowered it, wadding it up between his hands, while he studied his friend's face.

"Fair enough," Trip said after a moment, tossing the towel aside with practiced ease, "let's talk about that."

With that, the engineer leaned against his desk, crossing his magnificent arms across his equally breathtaking chest. The look on his face made it clear that he was not going to be the first to talk.

Still angry, Malcolm cleared his throat, brushed his fingers against his nose - a nervous habit - and mirrored Trip's posture. For a few minutes, he just stood there, gazing at his shoes that were in need of polishing. The way his hands rested on his biceps provided some security, and eventually, he lifted his eyes to lock with Trip's.

"We kissed," he stated hesitantly. Trip opened his mouth to add something, crooked grin already tugging at the corners of his mouth, but Malcolm silenced him with a look.

"We kissed," he repeated, "and we ... wanked each other, for want of a better word. Don't try to interrupt me now; I'm trying to wrap my head around all of it. We said that it was okay and that we didn't have to do it again, and I came here to tell you just that, but here you are, prancing around in a towel and ..." he shrugged "... I don't think I want to not do it again ..." He stood there, eyes still fixed on the commander's, hardly daring to breathe. He hadn't meant to say anything like that, had only come here to refresh his memory and respectfully tell Trip to keep his mouth shut, but now that it was out, he was dying to hear the other man's response.

Another smile played around Trip's features, making him look slightly mischievous. But he also thought he saw a blush creep into his cheeks, giving him the appearance of a man who had just had a great workout. In spite of himself, Malcolm felt a jolt of arousal at the sight and was suddenly very eager to look anywhere else, as long as it meant a distraction from his superior's ridiculously hot body.

The silence between them was dragging on, but Malcolm refused to look back at Trip, lest he see something there that he didn't want to.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he just rambled on: "What I mean is that even though the two of us aren't in any immediate danger that I know of, all I want to do right now is" he felt his face grow hotter than ever "snog you senseless ... which is strange, because I like women, which you know. Of course. And are you going to say something?"

Without realising it, he had almost shouted that last part and was now panting slightly from the effort and from embarrassment. He still couldn't look at Trip, so it came as a tremendous surprise when he suddenly felt a strong hand on his cheek and hot lips pressed to his own. Malcolm threw himself into the kiss with an abandon that made him feel sorry for himself, but not for long. His hands found Trip's body almost on their own and immediately began to refamiliarise themselves with his anatomy, roaming the commander's heated skin and pulling him closer.

Trip made a happy sound somewhere between a moan and a gasp, his free hand resting at the small of Malcolm's back. As far as the tactical officer was concerned, this could go on forever.

Sadly, it didn't, for Trip broke the kiss with a sheepish chuckle, and held the other man at arm's length. "Whoops. That kinda got away from me. What I meant to say was that I've always liked girls as well, which is why I bet this is just as confusing for me as it is for you." He turned away and sat down at his desk. "Which is why I think we should talk this over before we proceed one way or the other."

Trip's voice cut through the haze of lust that had engulfed Malcolm the second the kiss had started. Impressive. How could the commander be so matter-of-fact about this, while he - the elder of them - was reduced to a quaking mess of arousal at a single touch? In an effort to hide the evidence of said arousal, Malcolm nodded silently and settled down on Trip's bed. "Okay, let's talk."

Trip leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. "The way I see it - and correct me if I'm wrong - neither of us has been in such a situation before, but I think it's fair to say that we both enjoyed it." Trip waited for Malcolm to nod, before he went on. "I guess what happened just now is evidence that our attraction was not limited to stress-relief. So it seems we can either ignore it and hope it goes away. Or ..." He glanced up at Malcolm with an expression that positively begged him not to take the first option. "Or we could ... explore the nature of this phenomenon." They both burst out laughing at that. Malcolm knew that they shouldn't make light of the situation, but it just felt so good to laugh with his friend and not talk about the confusing matter at hand for a second. He soon pulled himself together again, however, and cleared his throat. "Well, I'm all for exploring," he replied, feeling really silly for going along with that analogy, though that was soon eclipsed by renewed excitement and apprehension about the commander's reply. It was possible, Malcolm reminded himself, that he would remember that they were of different ranks and that relationships (if that was what they were discussing) like this were frowned upon at best, and choose to cease all fraternisation, although Malcolm faintly remembered reading about something relating to the same chain of command, essentially boiling down to the fact that sexual relations between the chief engineer and chief of security might not be considered fraternisation. Malcolm called himself to order. His thoughts were chaotic and he didn't want to miss Trip's reply. Or had he already given it? Trip had gotten up and was walking over to the bed. He looked nervous, but determined. Malcolm felt his guts turn to stone. He would say no and this stupid mistake would have ruined their new friendship. Why had he even come here at all? Of course Trip would not want to leave himself vulnerable to claims of coercion.

Malcolm started to get up, not prepared to stick around after the commander had decided against the experiment, but the taller man stopped him by sitting down right next to him and putting his hand on Malcolm's thigh awkwardly. The lieutenant's previously petrified innards began squirming in anticipation as he looked down at that hand.

Almost simultaneously, the two men cleared their throats and the combined trepidation hanging between them was once again shattered by their shared laughter. When they had calmed down somewhat, Malcolm realised with a little twinge of excitement that they had been gazing into each other's eyes for some time now. Emboldened by the hilarity, Malcolm put his right hand on Trip's back where it rested almost casually, before Malcolm couldn't take it anymore. The younger man hardly had time to react when suddenly Malcolm was kissing him. This time there was no insecurity, no fear. There was only need, and that knowledge was enough to make them both groan with pleasure.

Malcolm had just pulled Trip on top of him and was starting to remove his undershirt, when the com buzzed. The commander growled in frustration, but pressed the button next to the bed.

"Tucker here!" It turned out to be one of the engineering crewmen, asking about that evening's movie night. "I've downloaded 'Dixon Hill and the Black Orchid' from the database. Could you see to it that everything is set up in the mess hall? I'll be right there."

"Will do, Sir," came the young crewman's eager reply.

"Great. Tucker out!" Trip had barely released the intercom button, when he was already burying his face in Malcolm's neck. "Damn! I totally forgot it was Tuesday!"

Malcolm took the opportunity to nibble on the other man's ear. "Hm, maybe you don't have to go. I mean, we did almost die. I'm off duty tonight ... They should give you the night off, as well." Malcolm could tell that the commander was tempted. He started kissing Malcolm's neck tenderly, causing him to pull Trip closer. At the very least, Trip would have to stay long enough to do something about the burning arousal Malcolm was deliberately thrusting at his belly. It seemed that he got the message, for while Malcolm was still wondering what had made him so brazen so swiftly, Trip zipped down the lieutenant's uniform. It was soon discarded, along with their shirts, and finally – finally – skin met skin. Having just showered, Trip smelled incredible and Malcolm let his hands and lips roam freely, caressing and kissing every centimetre of skin he could reach. The commander closed his eyes and seemed to be completely lost in the sensations, until Malcolm became aware of the decidedly mischievous grin that was once again brightening Trip's features, making his blue eyes sparkle irresistibly when they snapped open to lock on his. Malcolm was just about to ask what that was about, when a sudden touch on his member made the breath catch in his throat. With a rush of excitement, he recalled that Trip hadn't really done all that much to him in the shuttle. That had been all him. That realisation, while a bit confusing, made him push himself up on his elbows to capture the other man's lips in another kiss, while Trip's hand picked up his rhythm. Damn, he thought when Trip had him panting within seconds, if he kept this up, he wouldn't last very long ... again. Malcolm resolved he'd have to work on that.

Suddenly, the commander broke the kiss, gave him another crooked smile, and began to kiss his neck, chest, all the way down to the waistband of his briefs, which he pushed down slowly. Malcolm almost forgot to breathe. This morning – had it been the same day? – kissing each other had still been so strange that they had hardly taken it any further, and now Trip was actually about to ...

The contact was so thrilling that Malcolm had to pull all the stops to avoid exploding on the spot. Eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, and hands clenched tight, it took him a few moments to be able to enjoy the wonderfully new experience of being given head by his superior officer. But finally, he managed to control himself enough to run a hand through Trip's hair, open his eyes, and chance a look down. What he saw there, however, immediately undid him. The sight of Trip's incredibly blue eyes looking up at him while he licked and pumped his cock was probably the single most powerfully erotic image he had ever seen. And when Trip gave him a smile and flicked out his tongue playfully, Malcolm couldn't do one thing to keep from screaming out his release in an incoherent string of profanities. Trip let him ride out his climax to the very last, stretching out next to him on the narrow bunk, an impossibly wide grin on his face.

When Malcolm's breathing had returned to normal, Trip propped himself up on one arm and studied his subordinate with a curiosity that was slightly unsettling. It looked like he was plotting something.

"My, my!" he drawled, reaching over to smooth Malcolm's hair. "You've got quite the mouth on you, don't you? All that British reserve went right out the airlock!"

Mortified, Malcolm rolled out from next to him and got up. He didn't have to lie there and take this ridicule. He got dressed and was about to leave, when Trip grabbed his arm. "Whoa, hey! What did I say?"

Malcolm shook him off. He didn't feel like getting into it now, though, so he forced a smile. "Nothing. I just have to shower and change before movie night." It must have come out at least somewhat convincing, for Trip nodded. "Right. See you then."

Malcolm was already in the doorway when he turned around and indicated and area on his own cheek. "You should freshen up, too. You've got a little something right there."


	4. Chapter 4

Malcolm had never been particularly fond of the Dixon Hill films. He had watched some of them when he was younger, and he thought they lost most of their appeal once you were aware of the plot.

Nonetheless, he made his way to the mess hall on E Deck right after his shower, padd in hand. Maybe he could at least get that report done while he was there. Usually, these things came easily, but with this report, there were some things that were undoubtedly out of place in a document that would be subject to many readings by many different pairs of eyes, including those of Captain Archer, Admiral Forrest, and an officer assigned to evaluate the captain's command decisions.

Also, there were still some things that he had no memory of and maybe Trip could fill him in. Malcolm counted on the presence of other personnel to dissuade them from getting off-topic the way they had earlier that evening. Malcolm was still feeling a little betrayed by the way Trip had behaved, but he was willing to ignore that in order to get some answers.

"Hey, Lieutenant," came a voice from behind him. Malcolm spun around to find himself face-to-face with Captain Archer. "Going in to catch the movie? I hear Trip picked a good one tonight."

Clearing his throat, Malcolm nodded. "Dixon Hill, Sir. It's a decent film, but I remember who's behind it all in the end."

The captain laughed, clapping Malcolm on the shoulder as they continued their walk towards the mess hall. "Well, I guess we can count ourselves lucky that you decided to show up anyway. In your place, I would probably opt for a quiet night in with Porthos."

"Quite right, Sir. To be honest, though, I think I've had a little too much alone time this past fortnight. In any case, I brought some work." Malcolm held up the padd that was still quite empty except for the headline and the purpose of their away mission.

"Your report?" asked the captain, indicating the piece of technology. "I must admit I'm very eager to read it. Microsingularities aren't really something you encounter every day."

Malcolm gave a non-committal laugh, but was spared having to answer by their arrival at the mess hall. Captain Archer gave his shoulder another squeeze and then went off to greet Dr. Phlox.

Malcolm let his eyes rove over the people already gathered in the room, and quickly discovered the blond commander standing next to the food display case. He appeared to be talking to Hoshi while they were both picking up bowls of popcorn.

Hesitating for a second to make sure he had his expression under control, Malcolm made his way over to the two other officers, greeting them with a smile. Hoshi beamed at him, handing him one of her bowls so she was free to pick up new ones.

"Hey, back from your brush with death?" she joked, nudging him slightly with her elbow. "How was it?"

He forced himself to laugh briefly.

"I'll let you know in about two hours," he jested, and then turned to Trip. "Speaking of the away mission, could I have a quick word with you? I feel like I missed some things on my report."

Trip looked at him quizzically, but nodded. "If you'll excuse us, Hoshi."

She nodded and went off to distribute the bowls and find a seat.

Once she was gone, Trip turned to face Malcolm, an expectant look on his face.

"You wanted to ask something?" It sounded a bit cold.

Malcolm handed him the padd. "The captain asked me to write the report on our away mission, but I can't seem to recall most of what happened after we got that transmission. I thought maybe you'd be able to help."

Trip shook his head. "I know as much as you do. My guess is that we passed out."

"I thought about writing that, but it just sounds so unprofessional to include speculation in an official document."

The commander shrugged. "What else would you do? It's going to be almost impossible to find out what happened, unless you happened to install a surveillance camera on board the pod that I'm not aware of. I'd say guessing is your best shot here." He turned away from the crowd slightly to hide his expression as he asked his next question. "Are you alright, Malcolm? You seemed a bit rattled earlier."

Looking over his shoulder to check that no one was within earshot, Malcolm passed a hand over his mouth to calm himself. "If you must know, I didn't appreciate being mocked by you."

"I did WHAT?" Trip looked at him in disbelief, seemingly oblivious of the volume of his voice. Malcolm was uncomfortably aware that many of the room's occupants had turned in their direction, including Captain Archer. Fortunately, though, they quickly went back to their own conversations when they had satisfied themselves that the situation would not turn violent. An incredulous laugh issued from Trip's lips. Then he went on in a slightly more appropriate manner. "I'm sorry, but when did I mock you?"

Lowering his voice even further, Malcolm explained. "Earlier this evening, when we were in your quarters. You said something about me, right after my ... after I ..." He just couldn't bring himself to say 'climax' or 'came'. His cheeks were already burning anyway, but Trip seemed to catch his drift, and when comprehension dawned on his features, it brought with it a soft laugh and smile that made Malcolm a little madder, even as his heart skipped a beat at the sight.

"Oh, that!" Trip exclaimed quietly. "I'm afraid you totally misunderstood that in your weird British sense of pride. I thought I was giving you a compliment."

He had been about to ask why his ancestry had to come up in almost all conversations they had, when Trip's revelation gave him pause. "A compliment?"

The grin on the commander's face was full-fledged now. "I thought it was obvious. The way you let yourself go in that moment ..." Trip leaned over to whisper in Malcolm's ear. "It was incredibly hot."

With that, Trip gathered his popcorn bowls in his arms and went to get movie night underway, leaving Malcolm struggling to regain his composure. When he was reasonably sure that he had banished the flush from his cheeks and closed his mouth, he found a seat for himself in the last row and settled down with his bowl and padd.

Captain Archer was just welcoming everyone and presenting an outline of the film. Malcolm pretended to be listening, but actually he was reliving the scene in Trip's quarters. He remembered his climax and Trip's affectionate banter. How could he have misinterpreted that? Was he really that unsure of himself? He'd have to apologise.

The film had started, but Malcolm was still not paying attention. It was hard to focus with that tantalising statement ringing in his ears: 'It was incredibly hot.'

He forced himself to push all that away, however, to work on his report. He couldn't let this infatuation distract him. That would be very unprofessional and wasn't like him at all.

Two hours later, he had actually managed to give a fairly detailed account of their away mission, their encounter with the microsingularities in the asteroid field, and the decisions they had made when life support threatened to fail. He felt obligated to include their pilfering the captain's bourbon, but omitted what had happened under the influence of said liquor.

Looking up from his work, he realised that the film was almost over, and decided to at least act like he wasn't dying to get a certain blond man alone in a room and apologise thoroughly. Shaking his head, he picked up the bowl that had been sitting on his lap the whole time and stuffed some of the popcorn into his mouth. Stop behaving like a teenager, he chided himself. Stop second-guessing everything you hear and enjoy yourself for once.

He settled more comfortably in his chair and focused his attention on the screen. Dixon Hill had just uncovered some secret plot and some members of the audience seemed honestly surprised by the development. Malcolm smiled to himself. Doctor Phlox was right. There was something amusing about watching other people watch a film.

When the film ended, Malcolm went to speak to the captain, handing him the padd.

"You weren't kidding when you said you brought work," he observed with a chuckle. "Well, thanks. I think you've just made my night's reading more interesting." With that, Archer took his leave and left.

If he only knew all the things that I left out, Malcolm thought wryly. I bet that would make for a way more interesting read.

More and more people drifted out of the mess hall, until finally it was just him and Trip ... and Hoshi. She seemed determined to help tidy up and was chatting away with Trip. Malcolm sighed to himself. It seemed like he had little choice but to grab some chairs himself if he wanted this over with. While he was pushing a chair into its proper place next to a table, he was surreptitiously watching the other two, trying to decide what to say. He was just about done playing the situation out in his head, when Hoshi was called to the bridge. She gave Trip an apologetic shrug and a wave, and then she was gone, leaving him alone with the commander. There seemed to be an electric crackle on the air when Malcolm made his way over to where the other man was stacking popcorn bowls, which only intensified when Malcolm put his hand on Trip's arm and made him turn around.


	5. Chapter 5

"Listen, Trip. I need to apologise. I should have known you wouldn't insult me. I guess I'm finding it a bit hard to adjust to this thing between us." He let the sentence hang there and merely looked into these lovely blue eyes.

Trip just beamed at him, though. "It's already forgotten," he winked. "So, I noticed you finished your report. I'd be surprised if you even heard one bit of that movie."

"I had already seen it. I mostly came here to ask you about those missing memories, anyway."

"So you sat through this whole movie just to talk to me?" There was that banter again. Malcolm swallowed his pride this time and smiled. "You've found me out."

Trip chuckled and moved a little closer. "Did you know that movie theatres used to be quite popular as make-out spots?"

There was something in the commander's voice that made Malcolm certain he knew what make-out spots were. "I think they still are ...," he purred as he closed the distance between them, whole body tingling in anticipation.

Trip's grin made his heart flutter again, and suddenly he didn't care in the least that they were in arguably the most public room on the whole ship. All he wanted was to feel those lips on his again, sink into that kiss and that embrace, and just forget the world.

Nope, he thought, definitely not a fluke. This was as real an attraction as he'd ever felt, and the fact that Trip was a bloke just continued to get less important.

Malcolm sighed as their lips met and Trip's arms slid around him, pulling him flush against that hard chest. He let his tongue dart out to touch the other man's lips, which opened eagerly. As their kiss grew deeper and soft moans escaped from both of them, Trip let his hands wander. One travelled up to cup the back of his head, the other opened the zipper of Malcolm's uniform far enough to comfortably slip inside. The hand didn't head straight down, though, but worked its way underneath his shirt and happily roamed the planes of his stomach and back, making Malcolm shiver and sigh against Trip. He was now beyond caring what the consequences might be if anyone happened to walk into the mess hall in search of a midnight snack, and swiftly got his own hand into his shipmate's briefs to touch his manhood. It was all too clear that Trip hadn't had any release after their session that afternoon. His member was already rock hard and leaking when Malcolm closed his fingers around it and started moving them slowly. Trip's response was delicious. He gasped and let his head fall back, exposing his throat, which Malcolm immediately attacked with lips and tongue. It wasn't long before he had his commander groaning with passion and muttering sweet little phrases into his ear. Malcolm had seldom felt so desired in his life and he revelled in it, even staying his hand a few times to see what would happen. If he could make the other man beg for his touch. He found that not only could he get him to beg, but that it turned him on to have that kind of control.

Encouraged by that experience, Malcolm checked to see if they were still alone, and went down onto his knees, then slowly undid the front of Trip's uniform all the way. The other man gasped at that and gripped Malcolm's shoulders, then gave a guttural moan when he felt Malcolm free his cock from its cotton confines. Malcolm had never really looked at a cock up close, but found it much less intimidating now that it was on eye level with him. Moistening his lips, he just went for it, his own hard member screaming its neglect the whole time. The sharp intake of breath from above told him he was doing it right. Malcolm had received enough blowjobs to have a decent idea of what would do the trick, so he tried some of the flicks and nibbles that had driven him wild in the past and was rewarded with a whispered "Oh God, yes!" while Trip's hands were buried in his raven hair and his shoulder, urging him to go faster. He felt the other man's breathing become more erratic, his moans almost a coherent string of soft sounds that made Malcolm harden even more. The salty taste of precum was heavy on his tongue. Some part of his mind was just wondering if he was prepared to swallow, but Trip made that decision for him. Pulling out at the last second, he sank down on the floor next to Malcolm, spent and sated. Within a few moments, he was already laughing. He took Malcolm's hand and regarded him from half-lidded eyes. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I've never known you to be so naughty."

This time, Malcolm didn't mind the jibe, maybe due to the fact that his arousal was still pounding in his pants. "And I've never known you to beg for anything, least of all my touch on your prick," he shot back, cracking a smile. "Well, come on now, we wouldn't want Chef to stumble across you in this state of undress."

Still laughing, they got up, fixed their clothing and sat down at one of the tables. Malcolm found that he had the need to put something out there, and that took precedence even over his throbbing member. "Can I just say that today was really difficult for me?"

Trip looked at him with curiosity. He knew that Malcolm wasn't one to talk about his feelings. "How do you mean?"

"I mean that this thing between us has affected my ability to focus on my work. All day, I've basically been a teenage boy, too driven by his hormones to think straight. I have to admit that I'm worried about what will happen once we go back to working together on the bridge. I can't afford to be distracted. The whole ship would be jeopardised by a love-struck tactical officer ..."

The commander's features were inscrutable as Malcolm tried to read them. Then Trip sat up in his chair and suddenly he was very much the commander speaking to his subordinate. "Then you will simply have to leave your feelings outside the workplace. If you can't handle thinking of me as your lover at work, then don't. We can treat each other the same as before. Just don't picture me naked," he added with a wink.

Malcolm was actually amazed at how simple that sounded. "I guess that would work," he allowed. "Well, I think I should get going now. It's late."

"Agreed. Want me to walk you to your quarters?" Trip said it like a joke but Malcolm could tell that it wasn't meant to be one.

They ambled along the nightly corridors in silence. Malcolm couldn't keep a slightly goofy smile from spreading on his face when Trip took his hand again as they walked. He was already quite tired and it felt good to just be silent together. They reached Malcolm's quarters almost too soon and said goodnight.

The lingering kiss that followed was tender and sweet, and Malcolm was still smiling to himself when he got into bed a little later.

The next day was going to be a challenge, but one he was convinced he'd meet.


	6. Chapter 6

It turned out that Malcolm had once again over-thought all the potential difficulties and embarrassments that could arise out of working together with one's lover.

In reality, Trip had only been on the bridge with him for a few minutes that first day back on duty, and in that time, Malcolm had managed to keep his eyes glued to his instruments.

Reassured by that first experience, Malcolm let go of some of his doubts and inhibitions about their relationship and was generally more comfortable with the situation. He had discussed the matter with Trip on a number of occasions, and they had agreed that it would not be wise to talk openly about their affair just yet. However, they also established that neither of them would deny it if they happened to be confronted about it.

Malcolm had felt a bit uneasy about that decision at first, but he reasoned that it was probably for the best not to lie to any of their shipmates.

Some time had passed since their away mission in the asteroid field, and they had quickly gotten back into the routine of things back on Enterprise. The most recent development had been the rendezvous with an outdated Vulcan vessel and subsequent visits from its crew.

While these Vulcans appeared to be quite different from the ones they'd had the pleasure of meeting, chats with them still mostly ended up being rather awkward. Malcolm distinctly recalled walking into the mess hall to eat earlier that day, and finding Trip there, engaged in conversation with one of the Vulcan engineers. He had joined them at their table, only to be included in Kov's disquieting accounts of Vulcan sexuality. When he had mentioned that males of his species were only inclined to mate every seven years, Malcolm had cleared his throat and exchanged a look with Trip who was sitting next to him. It had been obvious from the commander's sheepish expression that he, too, was thinking about that morning's off-duty "workout".

Now Kov had returned to the Vahklas and, having a few hours to kill, Malcolm and Trip had decided to head up to the gym. They had barely entered the turbolift, though, when Trip seized the front of Malcolm's shirt, pulling the shorter man around and against himself, cupping his burgeoning hardness through the fabric of his shorts while his lips found their target with natural ease. Gasping in surprise and delight, Malcolm panted for the turbolift to stop, before he threw himself into the kiss, knocking Trip into the lift's wall in the process. The younger man laughed, unsealing their lips while his hand worked its way into his lover's track shorts. Malcolm groaned at the contact, pulling him closer, their foreheads resting together.

"Can you imagine going seven years without sex?", Trip asked incredulously, as he watched Malcolm from under his eyelashes.

The lieutenant shook his head vehemently, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"I think I'd probably die if I had to do that." His own hand slipped around Trip's member, setting a swift pace immediately.

They had learned from past experience that it was best not to obstruct turbolift traffic for more than one or two minutes, since the system was being monitored from the bridge, and there might be a security team waiting for them again if they didn't continue their ride soon.

Malcolm was slightly unsettled by how much that excited him.

Heads still together, eyes locked, they managed to synchronise their rhythms while the staccato of their ragged breathing filled the small space around them.

It didn't take either of them long to finish, and they just stood there for a few precious moments, supporting each other as the waves of pleasure weakened their legs.

Trip was the first to recover, breaking into a grin as he retrieved his hand and wiped it clean on the towel he'd brought. "Just one more thing to make me glad I wasn't born a Vulcan."

Malcolm copied him and made sure that their gym outfits were in order, before he ordered the turbolift to resume its ascent. Then he leaned in for another kiss.

Malcolm's arm had just snaked its way around Trip's waist, with Trip's hands cupping the shorter man's neck tenderly, when the turbolift doors slid open.

Upon hearing the familiar hiss of the doors, they disengaged from each other and were about to exit, when they became aware of someone who had apparently been waiting behind the lift doors.

"Well, gentlemen, don't let me interrupt." Malcolm's euphoria turned to anxiety in an instant upon hearing the captain's voice. His insides froze and he felt himself stand at attention almost without really planning to. Acting this unprofessionally in front of the captain of a starship was something that he had been trained to avoid at all costs. Of course they couldn't have known that he would be there in front of the turbolift, but that was no excuse. Captain Archer's jovial smile was firmly in place, however, when Malcolm finally forced himself to look at him.

Standing there in his sports kit, even Trip didn't seem to have a witty comeback handy, and Malcolm was silently thankful for that. As much as he usually enjoyed the other man's sense of humour, it would have been extraordinarily inappropriate in their current situation.

Presently, the captain stood back from the doors, taking in their attire and their flushed appearance.

Then he furrowed his brow slightly. "Really, Trip," he scolded. "In the turbolift?"

Trip's expression changed from mortified to cheeky in a flash. Apparently, he had judged the captain's mood and deemed it harmless.

"In our defence, Sir, this is the ship's recreation area."

Malcolm held his breath. After Trip's cocky reply, he and the captain were now staring at each other, faces inscrutable. Just as Malcolm began to mentally prepare to have his ass busted back to crewman, though, the two old friends burst out laughing.

Archer beckoned his subordinates out of the lift, clapped Trip on the shoulder and got onto the elevator without another word.

For a few seconds, the two officers just looked at each other, taken aback and relieved at how well the captain had taken that breach of protocol.

"I'd say that went pretty well," Trip chuckled, as he slung his towel around his neck and set off in the direction of the exercise bikes.

Malcolm huffed indignantly, falling into step beside him. "This isn't exactly how I wanted anyone to find out ... least of all the captain!"

They climbed onto the bikes and activated their favourite settings with the touch of a few keys. Trip kicked his bike into life, then sat back on the saddle, studying Malcolm. "What would you have preferred? Setting up a memo saying 'This is to inform you that Commander Tucker and I have entered into a physical relationship'?"

"Don't be daft!" laughed Malcolm, chucking his towel at the other man. He was beginning to get the hang of understanding Trip's banter. "I still think we should apologise for that display. I'm heading up to the bridge right away. You're welcome to join me."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world ..."

Barely an hour later, they reconvened at the turbolift on B Deck - following a shower and a change into uniform - to go talk to the captain. This time, they managed to keep their hands to themselves, and all too soon they emerged on the bridge. Malcolm noticed a few pairs of eyes on the two of them, including T'Pol's. He cleared his throat, watching Archer's head turn their way, too.

"Captain, I'm afraid there is a matter that needs your attention."

Archer's lips tilted up at the corners. "Spit it out, Malcolm. What is it?"

Slightly irritated, Malcolm cleared his throat again. The captain was enjoying watching him squirm. "Sir, I would appreciate it if we could discuss this in your ready room."

Malcolm could have sworn he saw the captain smother a huge grin at that, but his voice was all business. "Of course. Why don't you and Mr Tucker join me there?"

Trip gave his shoulder a reassuring pat, before he led the way.

When the door had slid shut behind the three men, Archer positioned himself by the large window that showed a breathtaking vista of thousands of stars and planets.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I assume this has something to do with the ... public display of ... affection I witnessed earlier."

"We didn't want you to find out like that," Trip told him.

"We came here to apologise. We are well aware that we behaved inappropriately," Malcolm added, trying to imagine the most likely punishments.

Archer nodded. "That you did. And I have to tell you, I don't take that kind of behaviour lightly. It's childish and dangerous, and I won't condone it."

Malcolm was finding it hard to believe what he was hearing. He wouldn't have expected Archer to be so narrow-minded. "Sir? I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"The lifts, Malcolm. We are dependent on them. Just imagine a surprise Suliban attack. Everyone to battle stations, but what's that? The lifts aren't running, cause two senior officers are getting it on in there." He let his gaze rest on each of them in turn, looking very serious. "Can I count on you to behave more responsibly from now on?"

Malcolm hurried to nod his assurance, but noticed that Trip was making an odd face, looking at the captain in confusion. Thinking that it was a thoroughly bad time for daydreams, Malcolm elbowed his lover in the ribs, garnering a low grunt from Trip and an amused chuckle from Archer. Then the blond man seemed to pull himself together. "Captain, how come you're not at all shocked to find me making out with a guy? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're not, but given my track record ..." He left the rest of the sentence unspoken and waited with bated breath for the captain's reply. Malcolm had to admit that he was curious as well.

Archer smiled another one of his indulgent smiles and sat down at his desk.


	7. Chapter 7

"Can you believe Phlox tattled on us?" Trip chuckled as they made their way back down to B Deck. "Talk about a code of silence. See if I go there again!"

"He was just giving the captain a detailed report on our health. What the captain inferred from the lesions on your neck and back is his business."

They laughed at the image of Archer going over Phlox's report with a fine-toothed comb, trying to find a cause for the scratches and the hickey, and said goodnight in high spirits.

Malcolm walked the last few metres to his own quarters thinking about their reluctance to give their relationship a real emotional component. They hadn't really talked about it, and Malcolm hadn't even noticed that it was missing until just then. They'd never spent the night, or embraced just because they felt like it. As Malcolm keyed in the code to his rooms, he made a mental note to attempt to change that.

Malcolm was no stranger to erotic dreams. They were something he actually enjoyed most of the time, so whenever he had one that he still remembered when he woke up, he took the time to write it down. He used a real paper diary for that, since he was pretty sure Section 31 still monitored his personal logs. When he woke up the day after that talk with the captain, Malcolm was almost painfully hard. In his dream, he and Trip had made love under the stars. There had been a beach and everything. Terribly tacky as it sounded, Malcolm had seldom been so aroused by a dream. It had felt so real. To the point where he thought he could smell the heady scent of sex, taste the commander's lips. The weird thing was that he had no way of knowing how it would feel to be with Trip like that. While they hadn't actually decided to wait, the time just hadn't been right yet. Malcolm blushed as he got out his book and pen from beneath his pillow and hastily scrawled down the details of that encounter. Once he was done, he checked his watch to make sure he wasn't late for his shift, then allowed his hand to wrap around his hardness while he let the scene from his dream replay in his mind. He barely got to the point where Trip buried himself in Malcolm, mouth parted, eyes locked with his lover's, before he felt the familiar tightening in his belly that heralded his climax. Malcolm gave himself over to his fantasy, enjoying the way dream-Trip felt against and inside his body. The waves of pleasure were still rolling over him, when he heard the chime of the comm. Malcolm pushed the button almost without thinking. "Reed here." He realised that his voice sounded slightly thick and husky, so he cleared his throat and sat up, trying to make himself sound more serious. He needn't have bothered, for it was Trip calling, and his grin was very audible when he said: "Morning, lover. Did I interrupt something?"

Face burning, Malcolm pulled off his shirt to clean off, while he cast around for an answer that wouldn't give the American even more cause to gloat. He didn't have to know that he had caught Malcolm wanking to a dream about him. "Not at all, I was just about to jump into the shower, that's all."

Years of working for Section 31 had made him quite good at lying, but be could tell that Trip wasn't buying it. The other man chuckled richly. "Take your time. I just wanted to let you know I'll be heading down to breakfast in a little while. Maybe you'd like to join me?"

"Sure. See you there in a bit. Reed out."

Malcolm rubbed his eyes wearily, feeling kind of awkward about his recent activities. Then he discarded the rest of his clothing and went into the bathroom to shower.

Feeling refreshed after his hot shower, Malcolm made his way to the mess hall, expecting to see Trip waiting there, but finding the room almost empty. He ordered a cup of tea and grabbed a platter of breakfast foods from the display case, then sat down with an eye on the door. The next person to enter, however, still wasn't the commander, but Hoshi. She smiled happily and joined him with her own breakfast. "Good morning, Lieutenant. How's your tea?"

Malcolm took a swig and nodded. "Not quite the same as back on earth, to be honest, but it'll do the trick."

Hoshi laughed and launched into an account of the languages in the Vulcan ship's database and how she was hoping to get permission to study them. "It would help us a great deal with our mission. I mean, we've fared well enough with what little we know about alien languages, but the Vulcans just have such a head start on us."

Malcolm nodded, tucking into his eggs. "Well, they have been in deep space a lot longer, but I wouldn't be so sure that they have gathered significantly more data on other cultures. They seem to be quite quick to judge species based on mere glimpses of their lives. I'm sure you'll be able to learn more about any species by analysing their languages than they could hope to achieve by watching them for years."

Hoshi blushed somewhat and poked at her food. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. I just hope I don't let everyone down."

"Impossible," Malcolm smiled, "you're the best Starfleet has to offer."

Hoshi seemed a little embarrassed, but grinned. At that moment, the doors hissed open again and Trip entered, looking at the pair of them and lifting an eyebrow, before he got himself a cup of coffee and joined them at their table.

"Is that all you're having?" Malcolm greeted him, gesturing at the steaming mug.

Trip raised his beverage to his lips, but didn't drink, regarding Malcolm in a way that made him tingle pleasantly all over. "You know me. I have to work up an appetite first. It would seem YOU already have."

Malcolm almost choked on a bite of sausage. How could Hoshi not notice that blatant flirting?

"Will you be joining us on the bridge today, Commander?" Hoshi asked, seemingly oblivious to the way Trip was now rubbing his knee against Malcolm's thigh.

"Would that I could, Hoshi," he demurred. "But with the repairs to the Vahklas, I just haven't been able to spend enough time with my own engine. She doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Oh, of course your engine is a woman. Makes sense." Hoshi had finished her cereal and rose to leave. "Just be sure to call her in the morning." With a last wink for the duo, she left the mess hall. The two officers stared after her for a second, then looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"I think she fancies you," Malcolm teased, as he finished off his breakfast.

"I was just gonna say that she was into you," Trip shot back gleefully.

"Well, either way, she'll be disappointed when she finds out we like blokes now."

Trip looked at him levelly. "I don't. All I know for certain is that I like one bloke ... you."

Malcolm couldn't stop his heart from beating faster at that confession, and his hand reached out for Trip's almost on its own. The other man's sheepish expression made him smile.

"Aren't you worried that someone will notice?" Trip asked incredulously.

Malcolm shook his head. "I don't think they'd care. Besides, the captain already knows, what are a few crewmen compared to that?"

Smiling, Trip squeezed his lover's hand. "It's still kind of surreal to me that he actually knows."

"And that he was so cool about it." Malcolm carried his tray over to the proper station, and they left the mess hall together.

Trip shrugged. "Why wouldn't he be? I mean, he must have been confused when he found out, but in the end, he just wants us to be happy."

"He said that?" Trip looked up from the couplings he was realigning.

Malcolm leaned against the hatch of the nearest maintenance shaft and nodded. "He did. He wants the two of us to join him for breakfast tomorrow at 0800. What do you think we should do?"

Trip gave him a slightly nonplussed look. "I think we should go."

Detecting the agitation in the lieutenant's manner, Trip put away his tools and moved over to where Malcolm was standing. Supporting himself against the wall with one hand, he placed his other on the shorter man's arm, squeezing gently. "Come on, Malcolm, what's the deal here? You've had breakfast with the captain before, so why the hesitation?"

Malcolm, feeling rather trapped, tried to avoid his lover's eyes.

"Don't play games with me, Malcolm, I'm too busy right now. Spit it out." He withdrew his hand to rest on his hip, making him look very impatient indeed.

Heaving a sigh, Malcolm gave in. "Alright. I'm worried about what this meeting will entail. Captain Archer tends to get rather inquisitive about his crew's personal lives. I don't think I'm prepared for another show and tell about our relationship."

Trip lowered his head, and Malcolm saw his shoulders twitch. And indeed, the commander's sexiest crooked smile was plastered onto his features when their eyes met again. "Malcolm, I care about you, and I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable." His hand cupped the side of his neck gently, making Malcolm feel a warm tingle throughout his body. "That being said, the captain is one of my closest friends on this ship, and I am gonna tell him stuff."

Malcolm was just about to protest, when Trip silenced him with a kiss. It was soft, and over in a second, but it managed to drop Malcolm's defences like a proton burst against polarised hull plating. Clearing his throat, Malcolm readjusted his uniform and left engineering, his legs still wobbly. He would have to trust that Trip wouldn't divulge anything personal. But he wasn't entirely clear on how much detail that entailed. He'd have to get some more information on the workings of the American brain. Struck by a sudden inspiration, he went through his options quickly, dismissing Hoshi, Phlox and T'Pol immediately, until finally, he was left with just one name.

He approached the nearest comm panel. "Reed to Ensign Mayweather."

**A/N**: I know Malcolm's first breakfast with the captain is in the second season episode "Minefield", but I went slightly off-canon on that, since it was easier to write


	8. Chapter 8

Travis was already in the Mess Hall when Malcolm entered, padd in hand. The young man rose respectfully, then offered Malcolm the seat opposite him. He had chosen the table nearest the windows, and he was watching the lieutenant curiously, clearly trying to gauge what they were about to discuss.

Malcolm sat down, and looked around the mostly deserted room. "Would you like something to drink, ensign?"

Travis shook his head. "I'm good, sir. Can I ask why you wanted to talk to me?"

Malcolm looked at his padd, then back at Travis. "Indeed. First, I must inform you that I expect full discretion from you."

The boy nodded. "Of course, sir."

"Second, the nature of this conversation is rather personal, so I suggest we drop ranks for the time being. Agreed?"

Travis nodded, curiosity lighting up his eyes. "I'm all ears. What's up?"

Malcolm was grateful that he had taken the time to note down some of the points he most wanted to address. "Okay, let's assume that you were involved with another member of the crew. How open would you be about it?"

He watched Travis' face for signs that he already knew, but found none. The young helmsman furrowed his brow slightly. "As in, would I tell the captain? Would I hold hands on movie night?"

Malcolm nodded.

"I suppose so. Captain Archer deserves to know about the social dynamics of his crew. And I don't think anyone would object to the odd kiss or hug, as long as it didn't happen on the bridge."

Malcolm listened intently. Travis had a point. "But say you were visiting your ... lover's work station and they kissed you there. Wouldn't that be against Starfleet regulations?"

Travis chuckled. "On any other ship, I'd say that was unacceptable, but Enterprise is no ordinary ship. We could be out here for years, and even the captain can't make us put our personal lives on hold for that long. I'd say you would be fine, as long as it didn't keep you from doing your job."

Nodding, Malcolm checked off that point on his list. "Fair enough. I've got another scenario. Say the captain has become aware of your involvement and invites the two of you to breakfast. What do you think he'd be likely to ask you about?"

Malcolm noticed a deepening of Travis' frown. "I'm not sure I follow ..."

Malcolm cleared his throat. "I thought you ... being American ... would have some insight into what Captain Archer might want to know about a relationship between two officers."

The way Travis' eyebrows shot up told him he'd been careless. But the boy just grinned. "Listen, I grew up on a cargo vessel. In a place like that, you couldn't hide anything from anyone. When I first kissed a girl, my captain knew about it in a matter of minutes. Plus, the captain was my dad, so he wanted to know everything. Maybe I'm not the best person to ask here ..." He trailed off. "Can I ask you something?"

Malcolm nodded, fearing the worst.

"Why did you come to me about this? I thought you'd rather discuss something like this with Commander Tucker ..."

Malcolm fought down a blush, but met the ensign's eyes squarely. "Thank you, ensign, you've been a great help. Don't let me keep you." With that, he rose from his chair. "I trust you'll remember that you promised to be discreet."

Visibly confused, Travis got up, too. "Of course, sir. I just hope I wasn't out of line."

Malcolm nodded curtly and all but fled the room, heading for the nearest turbolift.

That could hardly have gone any worse. What had driven him to involve anyone else in this?

When he finally reached his quarters, he flopped down on the bunk and covered his eyes with his hand. He dearly hoped his carelessness hadn't alerted the young man to what was going on. That would just open the door to rumour, and while he really wasn't ashamed of his and Trip's relationship, he still wasn't quite ready to go public.

Malcolm must have fallen asleep, for he was awakened by the chime of the door.

Jumping up, he ran his hand over his face and hair, then called for the visitor to enter.

Trip stepped inside, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Hey, bad time?"

The lieutenant shook his head. "No, I was just thinking about that breakfast."

"Well, then I guess I should take your mind off it," Trip smiled and poured the wine. "There really is nothing to worry about."

Malcolm accepted a glass and sat back down on his rumpled bed. "That's easy for you to say. You all but told me you'd tell the captain everything about us, but I'm just not comfortable with that. I couldn't stop thinking about what he will want to know."

Trip's soft laughter enveloped him like warm chocolate, and he felt the mattress give when the younger man sat down next to him. "Relax, Malcolm."

That ignited the Englishman's temper. "No, you know what? I'm not going to relax. I'm sick of being laughed at, just because I don't discuss my sex life with the captain."

Trip set down his glass. "So that's what's bothering you? You think I've been running around, telling the captain everything we've done together?"

Malcolm took a swig from his glass to forgo answering, but inclined his head in a way that made it clear that Trip had nailed it.

Malcolm was surprised when he felt Trip's hand on his thigh, grounding him. "Malcolm, I know I said that I tell John a lot, but there is still a line. I meant what I said about not wanting to make you uncomfortable. If you have a bad feeling about anything that the captain wants to know tomorrow, just let him know. Gosh, I hope you haven't been obsessing about this all day ..."

Malcolm's sheepish expression cracked them both up, and they moved on to happier topics.

It grew kind of late, and the bottle of wine led to another, and before they knew it, they were lying on the narrow bed, comfortably intertwined. Malcolm was just starting to drift off, when he felt Trip pull the Starfleet issue blankets over the two of them.

Malcolm couldn't recall having set the alarm, but sure enough, it started beeping at 0500, driving into his brain like a drill. He was just about to deactivate it, when he became aware of Trip's body still so close to his own. Malcolm allowed himself some moments to revel in that closeness, then hit the button.

Drunk on the warmth radiating from his lover, he ran his hand over the commander's bare chest, down his stomach, and into his briefs to be greeted there by Trip's already hard member. The touch was enough to wake the engineer. "Mmm, good morning," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. He opened his eyes, then winced at the lights that had come on when Malcolm had disabled the alarm. "My head is killing me."

Malcolm chuckled. "So is mine." He leaned in to kiss the commander, his hand already busy. "But I bet I can make you feel better more quickly than Phlox's analgesic."

Trip gave a low moan. "You're on."


End file.
